


The Warlock and the Warrior

by Jessa



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alec_Lightwood!Ben_Solo, Alternate Universe - Shadowhunters (TV), Angst, Arranged Marriages, Ben and Rey are siblings, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Clary!Hux, Complete, HEA, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Isabelle_Lightwood!Rey, Jace_Wayland!Tai, Lydia!Rose, M/M, Magnus_Bane!Finn, Maryse_Lightwood!Leia, Moderate Violence, Moderate language, PTSD (nightmares/flashbacks), Rogue_Shadowhunter!Phasma, Sexual References, Valentine!Snoke, canon-typical minor character death (Phasma), recreational drug use (alcohol), repressed_bisexual!Ben Solo, supernatural themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26525020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessa/pseuds/Jessa
Summary: The self-styled High Warlock of Brooklyn, Finn, is single and looking to mingle but Ben, a royal-blooded Shadowhunter, is baggaged to the hilt.In the world around them an underworld war between the creatures of the Light and the Dark has been simmering for generations and Ben’s sister, Rey, is on a quest to find lost artifacts to try to end it once and for all.Ben has been trying his best to help but loyalty to his past and family and the desire to meet his own individual needs aren’t so easily prioritized or distinguished; Ben’s war is within.
Relationships: Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Kudos: 3
Collections: Finnlo-Focused Multiship Anthology 2020





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello! Here is a homage to my two fandom crushes atm. No beta really so I hope this is okay and that most of all you just enjoy the story. All feedback is welcome, I would love to know what you think. Glaring plotholes probably exist. Feel free to point them out. Thank you so much for checking this out. I hope you enjoy it. <3 <3 <3

“Who are you?”

Twenty years ago, in the chapel at the Institute for New York City’s Nephilim a twelve-year-old boy, half angel, half human, knelt at the feet of his immortal mother, Leia Organa-Skywalker, and answered that question truthfully.

“I’m Ben,” he said. “Ben Solo.”

Leia passed him a light-hued seraph shortsword.

“And now,” she said solemnly to her only son, “Tell me who you are when you hold this.”

Ben swallowed the great lump of nerves in his throat and took the blade from her hand. Then he stood and turned around to face a small crowd, most of whom shared his bloodline. They were gathered there to witness his coming-of-age. A congregation including his mortal father, Han, and his younger sister, Rey. She’d only been a toddler then. His best friend, Tai, had also been present that day. Soon he’d be knighted too; Ben’s warrior partner for life. His _parabatai_.

“When I hold this I am Ben Solo-Skywalker,” Ben said.

“And what were you born to do, Ben?”

Like a good boy, Ben answered his mother with what he’d always been taught to. “I was born to be a Shadowhunter,” he said. “A warrior tasked with guarding peace, liberty, and the free creatures and beings of the Downworld.”

“And also?” Leia prompted. Because Ben had left one thing out.

He inhaled a great breath. And with Tai in his sights, he let it out with a long sigh.

“I was born to continue the lineage,” Ben finished.

* * *

It had felt so heavy back then, that sword, held insecurely inside Ben's young hands; nothing like it feels to hold now that he’s a full-grown man. Ben’s proud of that. Proud of the way it looks now too. Proud of the modifications he’s made to his weapon since then.

No longer does Ben’s sword cast a light hue, of ice blue, but one as red as blood. And no longer is it a shortsword. No longer is it streamlined. Ben’s blade casts long and wide and it does not whisper. Its reach erupts from a flaming crossguard, spitting and hissing, and fighting physics. Fighting the thing he’s been trying to escape his whole life so far. Since even before that day in the chapel when he was twelve. When he’d been forced to commit to a Darkness more threatening than even the fiercest demon: the oppressive weight of ancestry and all that that entailed.

He stares again at the photograph on the wall of many snapshots and fingers one of the chest straps belonging to the black leather harness he wears, snug across his chest and back, housing his sword. Which is nestled safely between the blades of his broad shoulders.

“Like what you see in the picture, brother?”

Ben’s eyes flit across to his sister. She always catches him staring at this one picture when they wait here. They do it often. Neither Ben nor Rey is much of a wordsmith and, of the three of them, it’s certainly only Tai who has anything resembling a gift for verbal persuasion. So when Tai is with them, only he goes in to negotiate with the High Warlock. And at other times Rey goes in because Ben never quite has the confidence to.

He returns to staring wistfully at the warlock’s image in the chiaroscuro picture. An image Ben knows off by heart by now, he’s stared at it so many times. In the picture, the warlock wears a white business shirt. He’s stood in front of an illuminated mirror and he looks to be caught in the act of dressing. Although he’s posing, too, for the camera; hands poised at his collar, cocking it. And meeting the gaze of whoever took the picture. Looking out from the frame with confidence. Ben loves the way he looks out like that: sure and proud. Skillful braids are woven through his hair. A silver cuff adorns one ear. And the lights in the picture illuminate all these things; the collar, and the cuff and the crown of his hair. They all stand out and seem to move towards Ben. Make a move for him.

But it’s the shadows in the picture that really capture Ben. The undefined spaces behind the warlock. What isn’t revealed by the light from the bulbs of the mirror. What the lights don’t reach. And the dark brown of the warlock’s eyes; a tone almost as dark and deep as the shadows. Not shallow like the artifice he wears or the surface of the photograph’s flat paper. All of that comes for Ben too, and arrests him; this is only a picture. A surface. But those dark tones, especially in the warlock’s eyes, seem as endless as the time Ben thinks he could spend here staring longingly into them.

“Tell me again what you know of him,” Ben murmurs.

“Finn is centuries old,” Rey begins, from near to his ear. Inflecting each syllable with a reverence Ben knows she adopts just for him because, being his sibling, she understands this secretive yearning. It’s a bond. A burden they can’t help but share. “With no recollection at all of his childhood. No memories of his family, neither human nor demon side. But that is through no fault of the warlock. He was taken, it’s said. And now only the memories of the First Order does he have. They are the only family he’s ever known.”

“Demonic warriors,” Ben murmurs, still staring at the warlock’s picture.

“Not Finn though, brother,” Rey says. “He was trained like all of them. Brainwashed. To weaponize the creatures of the Downworld, and force them to bend to another’s will. But that’s not who he really is. Finn is no longer one of them. Fierce and strong of mind, he has forged his own path since leaving. But he still knows many of the First Order’s secrets. He’s helped us before on quests to acquire them. And we are right to trust him again.”

Ben smiles. Rey’s told him this story much more than just once and still he never tires of hearing it. Ben's senses call him back from his brief daydream and Tai bustles through the heavy double doors that lead out from the warlock’s lair; back into the lobby where Ben and Rey are waiting. Smelling of something that reminds Ben of either fruit or honey or possibly both. His heart quickens. 

“He’s agreed,” Tai says, a little breathless, he’s clearly hurried to return and tell them this. “But he’ll only give it up in exchange for the necklace. I couldn’t talk my way around that one. He was particularly insistent tonight. I guess he always is, but-”

Rey snorts. “Jewelry,” she scoffs. “Fine. If that’s the only price for the first piece of the cup, it’s a trivial one at best. As far as I’m concerned this exchange will be more than worth it.” 

“It’s your mother’s necklace!” Tai appeals, and not for the first time. “Dowry, Rey. It’s supposed to be for your-”

“Please don’t remind me of that again now, Tai,” she bristles. “You know I want matrimonial shackles just about as much as Ben here. But the Dark piece of the cup? The first half of the map in my dream? It will show us the path to the Supreme Leader of the First Order, after so many years spent trying to find him. So many lives wasted in the process. Honestly, if this is all it takes to get it then the warlock can have every fussy necklace that I own. I certainly won’t miss this one.” She turns to Ben. “What do you think?”

Ben blinks, still lost in the bright excitement of Tai’s eyes and the thoughts he’s having now of his _parabatai_ ; alone in a room with the beautiful warlock from the picture. Convincing him to help them. “Huh?”

Rey admonishes her brother playfully with a soft click from her tongue. Then she looks across to Tai and nods. “The both of you should go.” 

“Hey!” Ben objects, petrified by that suggestion. “We’ve talked about this, Rey. You said-”

“Ben, you and Tai are partners,” she stresses. “And this isn’t just any old negotiation. It’s very important it doesn’t go wrong. Just in case there’s trouble, you should be inside with Tai to back him up. It’s not just an apartment in there you know! It’s a huge floor with a lot of areas. And we don’t know what could be lurking out of sight in any of them.”

Ben fiddles again with the chest straps of his weapon’s harness. “I thought you trusted him,” he grumbles.

“I do,” Rey says. “But…” She trails off.

“You sense something,” Ben finishes. “You sense conflict.”

Rey frowns. “Combat.”

“Depending…I may be able to handle that alone?” Tai suggests although he sounds like he could do anything but. And Ben can feel his nerves through their bond.

“I don’t sense harm to Shadowhunters,” Rey articulates carefully. “Just that something won’t go to plan…and I also sense a need for you both to be there.”

The trio falls silent.

“Tomorrow night then?” Tai steers eventually, looking to both siblings now for confirmation.

“Yes,” Rey agrees, after a moment more. “We’ll make the exchange tomorrow night…Ben?”

He looks to his sister and then to Tai. His blue eyes soften and it calms Ben and he feels his face relax until the corners of his mouth lighten in a small half-hitched smile of agreement. The caution at bay again for now. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll go.”

“With the necklace,” Rey adds. “Tai goes in and you’re the lookout, Ben. Got it?”

“Sure,” Ben confirms, and Tai nods.

* * *

Finn sighs. Yet another pretty token from the pretty Shadowhunter named _Tai_. The warlock turns the necklace over in his hands, taking in the rather gaudy green of the emerald set inside the gold filigree locket, hung from its chain by the bale. Finn likes gold but he’s not a fan of anything green. He never ever wears the color. It does nothing for his complexion. And there is that other small matter about his eyes. 

Finn looks up at the blue-eyed Tai, feeling sympathetic. The fact this locket defies Finn’s tastes is not this Shadowhunter’s fault. Finn senses this exchange was not an idea born of his smooth head; he’s merely been sent by someone with a little more nous than to trouble herself with petty exchanges. 

Finn smiles at his memories of the Shadowhunter Rey. She is plucky and he admires her greatly. But if this is meant to be a persuasive gift, well then she just has no sense at all for jewelry. And he can’t admire that.

Because that’s the real trouble here; this charm he’s being offered is simply not a gift equal to what Finn knows Tai needs in exchange for it. It really would be nice to one night meet up with one of them who for just once didn’t have an ulterior motive for offering him a gift. No matter how gaudy. Or green. Someone who’d come here and spend time with him just because they wanted to. Who wasn’t just _sent_. 

“What to do,” Finn laments quietly, and mostly just to himself. He shakes his head. “Tai, I’m afraid to say it but this token you’ve brought me is just not in my color. I really would have preferred something warmer. Soft like a rose quartz perhaps. Or earthy like a topaz. Or even better, gay like a ru-”

A sudden commotion cuts Finn’s sentence there. Flashes of limbs marked by the burn of runes cast into ready flesh flit across his confused vision. More Shadowhunters in his lair? He only invited one beyond the doors. Finn catches sight of Tai, engaged now in sudden and fierce combat with one of the newly emerged figures. Spies? Had he sensed them? Finn doesn’t think he had. And it’s now Finn notices their masks, all too familiar; these are not spies but rogue Shadowhunters. Intruders.

“By my sword, you will die tonight, _scum_ ,” goads one of them. 

The familiar taunt bays to Finn’s keenest warlock instincts. He feels his eyes change from their human and handsome dark brown to the light yellow-green he so despises. The color that will forever mark Finn as a warlock, no matter how hard he tries to hide it beneath the facades of mortal costuming. 

The towering rogue spits in his face and lunges, but Finn’s warlock senses pre-empt the short sharp blows she tries to inflict on his upper body as he twists and retreats, luring her further inside the hidden depths of his lair. Very purposefully now, to buy himself the time to conjure. For no weapon does Finn hold in his hands, even though he can wield keenly in a pinch when equipped; long ago trained in the art of swordplay under the First Order’s thumb.

“I may be _scum_ ,” Finn answers, feeling the force of what he wants to cast gain essence in the palms of his hands, while his feet continue to dance him backward across the floor. “But you fail to remember what else I am, _rogue_.” 

The electric blue energy, his burgeoning spell, materializes then from the air inside his flexed hands, but the arms of Finn’s attacker are long. And to avoid a particularly athletic thrust he ducks too low to remain on his feet, relinquishes footing, and falls. Hands flying down to catch himself. Recovering quickly. But time has nonetheless elapsed and with it the growing energy of the curse he would have otherwise hurled at her. She leans down, her blonde hair visible now beneath the edge of her mask. 

In trouble, Finn has a mind to open his mouth and land one last insult, perhaps also giving him the space he needs to start to conjure again. For in times when he senses that physical scuffle is no longer winnable, or that magic is no longer practical, it’s Finn’s intuition that has never failed to save him. But to his great shock, it’s not his mouth that opens now. His attacker’s maw gapes. Equally seized by shock. She and he both freeze. And then through her chest erupts the most magnificent sight. In the most tremendous color.

“Gay like a ruby,” Finn whispers. “Hot as a scarlet flame.”

Finn’s favorite color, crimson, disappears back inside his quarry's chest and the rogue’s body crumples, defeated. From the shadows behind it emerges a man who takes Finn’s breath away. Finn feels something then that he hasn’t felt in a long time. A century at least. But he thinks it might be even longer. 

“Who,” Finn breathes, “Are you?”

Something about him reminds Finn of Tai. But this Shadowhunter is more than just another pretty _boi_. This one is a beautiful man. And now he knows what the something is, watching the tips of the man’s ears turn pink; this is the _parabatai_. 

Finn has always been able to sense one half of a bond in Tai. Not all Shadowhunters have them. And now, in front of this tall, broad, dark-haired stranger, with the large and rather nervous eyes, distinguished nose, beauty marks, pink lips, and hands so large Finn would like very much to discover just how much of his body they could cover, and how quickly, Finn knows to whom Tai’s bonded.

“I’m Ben,” he answers in a voice Finn’s not expecting. It’s deep. He was expecting that. But there’s a softness and a lightness to it that Finn thinks he can only describe as gentle. Completely contradicting the rather crude way he just saved Finn’s life. There was nothing gentle about that. 

“There must be more to your story,” Finn says, very carefully. “But I can sense you don’t want to tell me.”

The blush that began at the tips of Ben’s ears spreads to his cheeks. He’s been holding his breath it seems because now, to the absolute delight of Finn’s heart, Ben lets the breath go and a toothy smile breaks across his face, and he chuckles.

“Not really,” he admits.

“Well, thank you, beautiful swordsman,” Finn says, still feeling a lot light-headed.


	2. Manhattans

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Ben asks.

Rey’s just explained to him and Tai the full ramifications of what they failed to do in Finn’s lair.

“We are going to stay calm, brother,” Rey seethes, rapidly losing all semblance of patience. “And what we are certainly not going to do is lose our shit because honestly, the pair of you, but especially you, Ben: why didn’t you hold that over his head? Saving his life? For the sake of the gods, if anything earns a favor then surely it’s the privilege of continuing to live, isn’t it? I love you both, you know I do, but really. Walking out of there without the cup? What in the holy trinity of fucks were the two of you hardly even thinking? There were _two_ brains in that lair. Apparently. And one of them should’ve come up with a better solution than that.”

“In our defense, Rey, it was a really full-on ambush,” Tai says. “We were completely surrounded, there were so many of them.”

“There were two,” Rey deadpans, very used to this behavior from the pair of them, and seeing through it like glass. “Two rogue Shadowhunters, Tai, and that’s all. Ben already told me. So don’t you try to cover for him.”

“They knew of the plan, Rey,” Ben chimes in. “Really, they did. They were waiting for us.”

“Well, did you recognize either of them?”

“They were wearing the masks-”

“Yeah, their faces were covered-”

“Well, that doesn’t mean a thing!” Rey cries, completely exasperated now. “They could still have been spies! How on the earth do you know they were definitely rogues? Tell me.”

Ben looks desperately at Tai. They’d both just sensed it at the time, inside the warlock’s lair, just before the ambush had started. Tai says nothing so Ben looks to Rey, his light brown eyes still full to the brim with pleading. Then her phone rings.

“Do _not_ , either of you,” Rey warns, stabbing each of them in the chest with her forefinger, as with her other hand she fumbles inside the back pocket of her skintight black leather pants for her phone, “Even attempt to think that this conversation is in any way over. I’m still _really_ pissed off about this.” She takes the call. “Hello? Fine… Who? Yes… But… No... No... No... Virgin Shadowhunter _what_? Okay, Finn? Stop talking… Finn? Stop talking and listen… Yes, of _course_ I know but this is too much information..! Yes, okay… Finn, for crying out loud, I said _yes_ … Yes, he’s here… Wait.”

Rey thrusts the phone at Ben. “He wants to talk to you.” She hesitates before adding the rest. “He says if you’ll meet him for a drink then he’s prepared to reconsider. Don’t fuck it up this time, Ben.”

* * *

“It’s called a Manhattan,” Finn says, pouring the cherry-colored liquid from a silver cocktail shaker into one and then the other of a pair of stemmed, funnel-shaped glasses. “Although I do add my own little twist to it. You don’t have to taste it, by the way. I can certainly handle two.” He gives Ben a meaningful look. “But I would like very much to share this experience with you.” Finn smiles. “Just saying.” 

He lifts both glasses from the countertop and hands one to Ben, who accepts it. 

“They’re not unpleasant,” Finn continues. “Sweet in fact, but not overly. The bitters cut through it, try the nose. Smell it.” The warlock waves the glass in his hand faintly before his own philtrum, inhaling the scent. “Like nectar.”

Ben mirrors him. He’s never had alcohol before; Shadowhunters really shouldn’t drink. 

“The flavors really are very nicely balanced,” Finn says, taking a sip. “To my tongue at least. But I am curious to know what your own tastes think of it, Ben. I’ve always been open to suggestions. Rarely taken them, but... Well, let’s just say I’m very happy to listen to counter opinions. Cheers?”

Finn raises the drink he holds. Ben lifts his too and their glasses touch together in a soft clink. Ben takes a tentative first sip.

“To new experiences,” Finn says as the first wash of warmth from the cocktail begins to spread through Ben’s body. He likes the feeling so much he takes another sip, and Finn adds, “Please allow me to show you around my lair.” 

The warlock leads them through the heart of his private apartment, waving his glass at times to indicate one thing or another, which Ben’s more than just a little awed by; there are so many fanciful chalices, mirrored surfaces, lavish lounges and dark corners that Ben can imagine are filled with all kinds of curiosities, beyond the candles that light them from ornate candelabras. Unlike his sister, Ben has always enjoyed pretty, meaningful objects. Collecting special trinkets. He values symbolism and the potential finely-crafted things have to hold much of it.

“I’d like us to stop just here,” Finn says. “This is something I’d really like to show you. Something I think may engage you.”

“Oh, the rest of this is very engaging too,” Ben expresses. “You live in a beautiful place. I’m very glad to be here to see it.”

“Do you spar?” Finn asks casually, over the top of his drink. Then, with his glass, he motions towards the very roomy gym they’ve stopped in front of.

“Wow,” Ben breathes. ”It’s big.”

“Thank you,” Finn says. 

Again it’s said across the top of his drink. Something inside Ben’s belly does a little skip at the way the warlock keeps doing that.

Ben goes to take another sip, raising blind the glass to his lips - his eyes are still on Finn - but the vessel is empty when he tilts it. Suddenly his feet feel unusually light on the floor and Ben finds that the characteristically stiff way he holds himself, especially whenever he’s around other people he doesn’t know terribly well, has taken a leave. His limbs feel looser. His jaw is less tense. 

Finn reaches out and Ben watches, still quite mesmerized by him. The knuckle on Finn’s littlest finger softly strokes the edge of Ben’s empty glass, indicating it. And the space inside it.

“Could I tempt you with another Manhattan, Ben?” Finn asks. “You seem to have enjoyed the first one so much.”

“It was delicious,” Ben admits.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said in the kitchen though. I wouldn’t like to pressure you. That wouldn’t be right... But if you did want another then please be assured there’s plenty more in the shaker... And-”

“Alright,” Ben says.

The word is barely out of Ben’s mouth but somehow Finn is already re-filling both glasses; Ben never even saw him leave to go back to where he first poured their drinks. The warlock gives him a look of mock innocence. Then his face breaks into the warmest of smiles, and the sight doesn’t leave Ben breathless as such. It’s more like, just for a moment, Ben doesn’t need to breathe at all. What he needs just seems to be there in front of him. He could breathe that in - drink that in - and he thinks that that, and that only, could sustain him for a long time. 

Perhaps he should toast this time. Something to do with his sister. Because, what is he meant to be doing here again? Flirting with the warlock is not even vaguely close to unpleasant but he’s here to get something, isn’t he? He should be leading the warlock towards that, not allowing himself to be led around like this. But he’s liking being led around. Tai leads him. Ben knows he likes that.

The warlock has lifted his glass again by now.

“So, um,” Ben stutters. “This is the place where you spar, huh?”

“Oh,” Finn says. “Forgive me, I thought you were about to toast, but you’re asking me about myself. How lovely. How lovely you are.”

So they don’t toast but nor does the warlock lower his glass or step away from Ben; he’s still stood close enough that they could touch glasses again if they wanted to. And he’s still looking at Ben in that way Ben’s growing to really like. Looking at him with eyes that are lit by the warm flames burning at the edges of the vast gym inside Finn’s lair, which they’re still stopped in front of. An odd choice for lighting in a home gym, Ben thinks.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the warlock voices. “In this room all the lights are electric. I’m a safety guy.”

Electric or not, a pair of lights are dancing in Finn’s eyes. Bright and inviting. And when he blinks or shifts his view, and his lashes fringe his eyes softly for a moment, outing the lights briefly and making them flit more perilously than even a real candle’s flame Ben thinks he is lost to everything then but that burning. Not fragile at all. Steady. And the closer he gets, the more constant he wants it to be.

“I should answer your question now, Ben,” Finn murmurs. “I haven’t had a partner to spar with for a very long time and… Well, what about you? Tai is a pretty thing…strong…the two of you must spar often.”

“Um,” Ben stutters again, not expecting his question to be turned so suddenly onto himself. And still feeling more than just a little bit brainless. Still lost in the light of Finn’s eyes, and thoughts of permanence. “He’s my _parabatai_. We train daily.”

Finn gives Ben a look. Not the covetous ones of earlier. Is this a look of suspicion? Mistrust, even? 

“And?” Finn adds quietly.

Unsure of what to say next, unsure of where this is all leading, Ben steels. Perhaps that’s because the conversation has turned to the subject of Tai. Nobody ever asks Ben too much about Tai. Not directly. Rey gives them both her own kinds of looks at times, but she never actually says anything outright about the nature of his and Tai’s relationship. And Ben certainly never does. Not even to Tai. 

“If you’re asking if I ever share cocktails with him, then no. I don’t.”

Finn raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Ben bristles in his own defense. “It’s the truth. Shadowhunters don’t drink. Okay?”

“Some of them do, Ben,” Finn says. “I know because I’ve drunk with them. There’s nothing wrong with it. But that’s not what we’re really talking about now, is it.”

“No,” Ben admits. “It’s not.”

“You’re very… _grown,_ Ben. A very” - Finn sighs - “beautiful and highly-skilled kind of _grown,_ I won’t lie.” 

Ben feels his ears begin to flame. 

“Your personal world,” Finn continues, “Is your own to disclose. Or conceal. But I have invited you here. Alone. So if I’m asking things of you it’s because I’d like very much to know them. And I’m happy to accept the honest answers. Whatever they might be.”

Finn’s face grows so soft and earnest now that all of the mettle Ben’s been mustering around himself in defense of this line of questioning about Tai just melts away. As though the heat in Finn’s eyes were a furnace, or better yet a sun that could do such a natural thing as thaw something caught out in a frost. 

“I will absolutely understand it, Ben, if you don’t want to share such personal things with a warlock you’ve only just met though.” Finn’s voice drops to a whisper. “Tell me you believe me when I say that to you?”

“I believe you,” Ben answers.

“I just…thought I may have felt something in you for him. Last night. When you were both here. I need to know the truth about it, Ben. Please, just this one thing. Not details if you don’t want to give them, but…I am centuries old. I do have an awful lot of time. Nonetheless, if I’m wasting it coddling a flame for a man whose flame wouldn’t be coddled by me, or who wouldn’t coddle my own, well-”

“You’re not wasting time,” Ben whispers. “It’s just...very complicated right now. I... This is hard for me, you know? I… My feelings for Tai are my own fault, he’s my _parabatai_. I know I shouldn’t-”

Finn does something then that both shocks Ben and fills him with so much relief he feels his eyes verge on prickling with tears, he’s so grateful.

“Shh,” Finn breathes, touching his fingers to Ben’s lips to quiet him. “None of that kind of self-berating now, please, beautiful swordsman. Feelings are feelings. Hearts do whatever the damn hell they want to and that is nobody’s fault. That is simply the human condition. Trust in the heart you have, Ben. Follow it.”

The prickle that was only the threat of a verge in Ben’s eyes is very real now; standing there, in front of Finn, he begins to blink back tears. His stomach knots. His knees quake.

“I’m betrothed,” he’s finally able to say. “At the new moon, I must marry. Because I’m a-”

“I know,” Finn admits. “Because you’re a _Skywalker_. Et cetera. I know.” 

“Huh?” Ben frowns. “How could you possibly know that? I’ve not told you.”

“You have forgotten who I am, Ben.”

“Forgotten?” Ben’s frown deepens. “I _don’t_ _know_ who you are,” he says. “It’s other people who call you _Finn_. But you’ve never actually introduced yourself to me. I only know you through my sister, and stories, and… And… Well, what the fuck even is a _High Warlock_?”

Finn sighs. “You’re changing the subject.”

“No, I’m not-“

“What are you going to do, Ben?” Finn asks. “You’ve just stood here and told me that you have feelings for your _parabatai,_ and yet you are also telling me that you still plan to marry someone else. But here you are drinking with me, so… Well, what are you going to do?”

“You’re asking that as though I have a choice.”

“You _do_ have a choice, Ben.”

“I don’t,” Ben hisses, feeling flustered now as well as confused and dejected. “My bloodline is royal and I am the eldest son. I do what I’m told to. I was born to-”

“You _do_ do what you’re told to, don’t you?” Finn sighs. “I guess that must be the half of you that’s _seraph._..”

For the first time, in the short time Ben’s known the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he goes quiet in the middle of a conversation. Moments pass between the pair of them but Finn remains silent. Ben watches as an epic sadness builds behind his eyes. Then they start to shimmer with tears in the candle-lit dark of his lair.

“You know you won’t be happy,” Finn says quietly. “You’re tearing yourself apart. I can feel that in you.”

“I can’t turn my back on my family,” Ben whispers. “They watch me so closely. How could I?”

Finn begins to shake his head. Hands by his sides. But his eyes are still soft with sorrow. “I’m so sorry,” he’s whispering too now. And then, for a few more moments, nothing but silence passes between them again; Finn seemingly still unsure of what to do next. “I… Your... Your choice is your own, Ben. There really are the strongest urges in you, I really can feel them. They come from your heart. I know you can’t name them. But there are things it longs for, and mine longs for them too. I know what they are but still here you continue to stand and insist that blood runs thicker than…well, Manhattans.” Finn chuckles at his own terrible joke. But the tears in his eyes mean the smile on his face is still one of pain. Sharper than the bitters in the cocktails. “I can’t encourage this anymore,” he murmurs in conclusion.

“I don’t understand,” Ben says, confused. “I don’t need you to. You asked me for the truth. You _asked_ me, Finn! And then you said you’d accept my answers.”

“I am accepting your answers, Ben… I was merely talking to myself.”

“I don’t...” - it takes a great effort but Ben does say it - “I don’t love Tai.”

The words hang in the air. Ben’s jaw starts to tense again. His limbs begin their familiar tightening. 

“It is not,” Ben hears Finn say gently, “Your heart that will ever stop you, Ben. Never deny what you truly feel. But obligations are onerous things... So, can you see that steel cup over there on the mantle? The one that’s studded with rubies? I’m extraordinarily fond of it.”

Still dazed and confused, Ben does manage to look to where Finn nods. Both of the men’s cheeks are wet by now.

“Yes,” Ben says quietly. “I can see it.”

“Take it,” Finn sighs. “It is the information your sister is after. And take the necklace back with you too. I neither need nor like it. And then leave please, Ben. I have given you all I can that is practicable at this time. And with that cup, on your departure tonight, you will have taken only what it is from me that you really need. For the moment.”


	3. Pieces

Tai knows he’s dreaming. His feet on the ground are silent. This is not the crypt of his father, but another’s. The Shadowhunter crouches down and reaches out, and brushes imagined dust from the headstone. This is a well-tended grave. And the cup is here again. Tai collects it and turns it over in his hands. Its rubies shine impossibly in the dark; there are no stars or moon overhead, and a dry storm approaches. Tai raises the cup to his lips. But he never goes further than this. The cup’s own lip is missing. All that ends the vessel, where something smooth and born for his lips should be, is a ragged edge of steel. To drink from it now would inflict him with injuries he senses he’d never recover from. But Tai always drinks from this cup now anyway. This is just a dream, after all. It can’t hurt him. And the cup contains everything he’s ever needed. And Tai wakes from the dream then, knowing that too.

* * *

Rey’s feet on the grass make a soft sound. And even in the pitch darkness, she can see the green of it. In the daytime, the purple light of storms makes this kind of green so visceral. Rey thinks it to be the most beautiful color in the whole of the world: the green of grass just before a lightning storm hits. From the day she watched her brother be knighted, and her mother wore her most special necklace to the ceremony - gold filigree caging an emerald - Rey knew green was what she would always long for. Perhaps not the green of that particular necklace. That fate had never called to Rey. But green was still to her like a beacon. And here it is now, beneath her feet, calling out to her again from inside the cemetery.

* * *

“There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?”

“Yes.”

“You and I have unfinished business. You know very well why you and only you were allowed to go free.”

“No one allowed me anything. I left of my own choosing. And more have done it since. I showed them how.” 

“They will come for the cup’s pieces.”

“They already have.”

“We're watching you closely, warlock.” 

“You’re doing far more than that. You sent rogues to my lair. Spies. But do you know, and it’s the funniest thing…they were no match for me or my allegiances. Which are much stronger than yours.”

“You lie, Finn.”

“You know I don't, Snoke. Not this time. Did you see them return? My allies are not forged on my will alone, as yours are. But on their own wants. Desires. Do you know who it was who killed the one that came for my head? I didn’t even have to ask him to do it. Let me show you him. He’s a beautiful thing. I think I’m growing fonder by the day.”

* * *

“Ben?”

He’s slumped on a leather-covered bench at the Institute, studying the jagged-lipped cup and waiting for Rey and Tai to arrive, and help him ascertain what the fuck to actually do with it now that they finally have it. This thing is supposed to be a map? Are they serious?

“Oh, hey,” Ben mumbles “S’up?”

“S’up with you?” asks the Shadowhunter Rose, Ben's betrothed. 

Ben shifts his tired, heavy limbs across on the bench. He hasn’t slept a wink since he left Finn’s lair. He makes room for Rose to sit down. 

“You look a little bit like shit run over, Ben,” Rose admits, eyeing him while collecting the necklace Ben threw down on the seat when he arrived here. No longer interested in that. But Rose studies it keenly. Then her attention returns to Ben’s worn-out face. “Are you okay?”

At first, Ben just grunts at the cup. But then he feels Rose's arm slip around his shoulders. Her palm rubs across his back. The touch, as well as her voice, helps to bring him back to the present. Ben remembers where he is. What he’s doing. He sits back and Rose removes her hand. Ben leans his head back against the wall and he looks at her with very tired eyes.

Rose looks back at him in the patient, matter-of-fact way she always does when Ben is in a mood. Knowing it’ll pass. And Ben knows she won’t leave him alone until it has, so it’s futile to try to convince her in any way to go away; if he ups and leaves, she’ll just follow him. 

“I’m getting comfy,” Rose says. She wiggles her butt on the seat, making her leather pants creak a little, hide on hide. The sound is funny to Ben; it, and her wiggling, start to make him smile. “I’m super comfy now,” she adds, still wiggling. “You know, I think I’m so comfy now that I could just about sit here waiting all day. Until you think you might be ready to talk to me, Ben. Did you know that?”

Ben sighs. “Yes. Okay. I’m ready.”

“Is it Tai?”

“Sort of," he says. "Yeah.” 

Ben slumps forward again and returns his gaze to the cup in his hands. Rose returns the hand she had on his back, rubbing across his shoulders once more until Ben goes on. 

“I just… I just always thought me and Tai would be…you know.”

He looks at Rose. She nods. 

“But… Well, Rey used to tell me about him. Every time I’d stare at that picture. She still does it.”

“You stare at an awful lot of pictures, Ben. Could you be a little more specific? I’m guessing it’s not a picture of Tai.”

“It’s one of the ones in the foyer at the lair,” Ben says.

“Oh,” Rose says slowly. “Right. _That_ picture.”

“And I’d think" - Ben pauses briefly - "Wait, Rose, don’t tell this to Rey, okay? Please?”

“I won’t,” she murmurs. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Ben swallows. “I used to… _think_ about him. Make shit up, you know? Like…role-plays.” 

“Okay.”

“And I thought, well, that’s _Tai_ … If those things could be real… If we were all in some kind of alternate universe for a while, you know? Because he’s my _parabatai_ and those are special... But he’s been going off places lately. Rose, I just don’t think he’s interested in me that way... Do you know what I mean?”

* * *

“Tai?” Rey hates to interrupt while people are kissing but this is more important than that. And she’s been called here, she can’t leave now. He needs to know. They all do, Ben and Rose too. “Tai, Finn’s given it to Ben.”

“Geez, Rey, timing?” Tai’s smiling though, arms still around the red-headed _mundane_ he’s been kissing against the wall of a crypt. “Tage says he knows where the lip is. Tell her, man.”

“No need,” Rey smiles. “Rose knows too.”

* * *

“Ben, you know this is the part where I need to tell you that you and Tai are only co-dependent _warriors,_ don't you?" Rose says. "Honey, we need people for different reasons in our lives. We don’t find _everything_ we need in just one person. Like, take me and you, okay? We’re friends, right? But we would never-"

“I know.” Ben returns his eyes to the cup. “I just miss him... Like, last night, right” - Ben sits up - “Finn was showing me something. And I just couldn’t help but start to think about how me and Tai haven’t even trained for three days. _Three whole days_ , Rose. That’s never _ever_ happened before... I think he’s seeing someone, like…for real.”

“Tai’s on his own path,” Rose says gently. “It’s a little bit different for us. We’re royal. But none of it means that you can’t still be friends because, honey, you’re on a journey as well. A particular one, with different waypoints maybe. And you gotta let yourself be on that one… D’you get what I’m saying, Ben? We _both_ have to do it. There are many more than two fish in every sea... Wait a minute, what’d you say before? What’d he say to you again?”

“Who?" Ben asks, confused. "Tai?”

“No, _Finn_ ,” Rose groans. “You said he _showed_ you something...” She gives Ben a wink.

“He was showing me his _gym_ , Rose, not his dick," Ben groans back. "Alright?”

Rose snorts.

“What?” Ben says.

“Sure,” Rose chuckles. “Because that is obviously completely different, Ben.” 

“Well yeah, Rose!" Ben exclaims. "It is completely different, it's literally _a_ _gym_.”

She laughs. “Okay, honey, so he was showing you his _gym_ -”

“That’s what I said!” Ben huffs.

“Well, did _he_ say something as well? When he was showing you his real actual literal gym? Or did he just whip it out? Like… Well, okay, maybe guys do just show each other their gyms all the time, with no explanation. I guess you show each other your dicks all the time in the bathroom when you’re peeing on those wall things-”

“Oh my god, I go into _cubicles_ , Rose!" Ben cries, completely vexed now, and embarrassed. "I _never_ use the wall!”

“Seriously, Ben, if some chick invited me over to _her_ gym? Well, I would definitely be taking a shower before I went and that is _all_ I’m gonna say about that.”

“ _All_ you’re gonna say?" Ben sighs. "Jesus, Rose, could you be any more suggestive? He was asking me if I _spar,_ okay?”

"Well, I hope you said _yes_."

“I didn't,” Ben says.

“Well, why the hell not?" Rose asks. "You _do_ spar, Ben, you spar every freaking day! And here you are telling me you’re sad ‘cause Tai isn’t sparring with you anymore? Ben, for gods’ sakes, join the dots!”

“What do you mean?” He knows he's tired but for some reason, this conversation still seems abnormally hard to follow.

“Oh, give me the cup,” Rose huffs, shaking her head as she slings the necklace over her head, takes the cup from Ben’s hands, and reaches inside a small viridian-colored clutch purse she has with her for her phone.“You’re gonna take this, Ben” - Rose says, handing the phone to him, which looks to be already dialing a number - “And you’re gonna invite yourself back on over to that warlock's lair.” 

“What?!” he exclaims. “I can’t just-”

“You certainly _can_ just," Rose says firmly. "That warlock is waiting for your call, Ben. Trust me.”

Ben puts the phone to his ear. Hardly able to hear the peal of the dial above his pounding heart.

“Oh, and be sure to tell him that I say _hi_ ,” Rose murmurs, turning the cup over in her hands, then beginning to remove a slim steel bangle from around her wrist. “It’s been way too long since our last drink.”

* * *

“I will preface this by saying that I may be just a little bit rusty.” Finn cocks an eyebrow at Ben, admiring him from across the gym.

“Excuses are for rogues,” Ben shoots back, grinning. “Look alive, warlock.” He throws Finn one of the practise swords he brought here with him from the Institute. “Rose says _hi_ , by the way.”

“So authoritative,” Finn says, grinning as he starts to get a feel for the length of light wood in his hands. Ben watches like a hungry hawk, his own long sword held ready but paused; it’s as though he’s impressed Finn can do this much. “Your attempts to dominate me are very cute, Ben. There is a problem here though.”

“Yeah?”

“As much as I like seeing you in your Shadowhunter outfit” - Finn rakes Ben up and down with his eyes; dressed in black leather pants and a tank top which reveals sculpted arms adorned by healing rune burns - “You’re still wearing far too much of it.”

“Is that right?” Ben answers

Finn licks his teeth and bites his lip as he watches Ben split-step, raising his chin. Then he begins an almost-stroll towards him, weapon revolving. “Well, that sword belongs to me, warlock. So you better earn the right to take something off.”

“Holy fuck!” Finn leans back and laughs, enjoying a confidence he hasn’t really yet seen in the Shadowhunter. “If you’re feeling like that” - the warlock doesn’t advance; he just splits his own step, raises his own wood like a baseball bat, and waits - “Then why don’t you just come let me?”

Finn adjusts on his feet, rocking back as Ben rushes him. His light wood sword held low and parallel to the floor, right up until the last moment. When he rises up from a place almost as low to the ground as the foil, raising his arm up with the rest of his torso and connecting with the center of Finn’s waiting weapon. The upward force is enormous and Finn feels his stomach lurch - not unpleasantly - as his upper body is taken along with his faux blade, careening the whole arrangement left. Finn stays on his feet but he ends the first sequence off balance.

“You know if you lowered your center, that wouldn’t happen,” Ben comments offhand.

“Oh, you mean like this?”

Finn ducks beneath Ben’s arms, and blade, and shifts his own wood behind his knees, swiftly changing hands. In the process, he pulls the sword towards himself. Ben is ready for the maneuver but he’s just too big to survive it. The weight of him brings his body down and all he can do is catch himself on his knees, sword still in hand though; raised in time to block Finn’s own. Which he’s brought up and around the back of Ben, quicker than light. Finn adds a second hand to his weapon’s hilt and applies a downward force. Lifting himself up on his toes and pushing, disallowing Ben to rise. Pinning him, knelt on the floor at his feet.

“Well, it looks like I’m a lot less rusty than I thought,” Finn says.

He doesn’t move his blade. He doesn’t ease off at all. He looks down on Ben, still on his knees; Ben’s blade crossed with his, in only a single-handed backhand defense; if this were a battle then the Shadowhunter would be all too easy to finish off from here.

“Tell me you’re more than impressed,” Finn orders.

Ben coils the muscles of his free left arm. Then he crumples on purpose and Finn is left with nothing but air to resist him. The warlock sucks in a breath, hands flexing to conjure a spell to save his face from the floor. Then an enormous arm hooks him from behind by the waist. The men scuffle for a minute as Ben helps Finn back to his feet. Ben’s arm by now is hooked around Finn’s upper chest, beneath the pits of his arms; pulling his body closer until the warrior’s hot breath is landing on the back of Finn’s neck, and the voice in his ear is equally affected by both the breath and the incoming sass. “I’m sure you are, warlock.” 

Finn takes a moment to process this. Held firm against the swordsman. He leans back. Finds a shadowed cheek to brush against with his own freshly-shaven one.

“Do you yield?” Ben whispers. 

With his back to the heat of Ben’s heaving chest, Finn lets his body rise and fall with every breath the Shadowhunter takes. Until the rhythms start to even and Ben’s breathing slows. Finn’s eyes narrow. Ben’s arm still holds him firm. Finn smiles. 

“Only in your dreams,” the warlock answers through a small puff of breath laced with magic.

Temporarily blinded by the charm Finn’s cast, the confused arm around him slackens. Finn turns spryly in the hold and ducks from within it again, pausing and waiting a moment for Ben’s vision to return. Then he spins, weapon still in hand, and knocks the much taller man from his feet once more with a low, roundhouse flourish, felling him for the second time. Finn crouches low, knees spread, and with another quick charm, he manipulates Ben’s still-thwarted body until Finn can hold it inside his own, spooned in a lock. Ben's back to his chest. One arm around Ben’s upper chest and the other pinning his armed hand down. The men come to rest like that on the floor of the gym.

“Oh, forgive me, Shadowhunter,” Finn whispers into Ben’s ear. “I forgot to divulge it before we started. I was trained by the First Order.”

“Yeah, my sister told me,” Ben huffs, still catching his breath. 

“You know, when you got here, I wondered if you’d slept,” Finn confesses, still catching his own breath too. “You looked like shit.”

“You’re the second person to tell me that today,” Ben grumbles.

“How do you feel?” Finn asks.

“Tired as fuck,” Ben admits, and then he adds, “And old.”

Finn chuckles. “Old? I could tell you of being old, Shadowhunter.”

The warlock sighs deeply and adjusts his body beneath Ben’s head, which is growing increasingly heavy.

“Perhaps we should move off the floor?” Finn suggests. “Sparring is thirsty, sweaty work. Now, I know we’re just friends. And I say this as your friend, Ben. Could I tempt you with a shower and perhaps somewhere to rest? If you’re feeling so tired. You would be safe here. I won’t trouble you. And there are plenty of places to nap. I'm sure I could find a spot in my lair to fit a warrior the size of you.”


	4. Who You Are

“So how did you get it?” Tai asks, gazing at the Light piece of the cup that Rose still wears like a bracelet. “You sure kept that one quiet.”

“Oh, that part was easy enough,” Rose answers, passing it to Tai for him to look at more closely. “Getting him to admit it was the second piece was less so… I went there to get something else actually, and Finn was wearing it. It seemed to be kind of bothering him, he kept fidgeting with it. So I asked him about it and he wouldn’t say at first but I knew he had a sweet spot for Rey. Finn can be a dummy like that, I’ve needed things from him before. I know how he works. So, to get him to talk, in the end, I played that fiddle. And he told me to take it and keep it safe until she needed it. And that she’d know when that would be.”

Rose glances at Rey.

“Fiddle, am I?” Rey murmurs. “And it’s not a _sweet spot_ , Rose... Finn and I just have _mutual admiration f_ or each other, that’s all… I don’t like him like _that_. I’m not my brother.” 

“I’m very aware of that,” Rose says.

* * *

Finn had allowed Ben to shower alone. He had left him alone to sleep throughout the day too, in a guest room. Periodically checking on him by casting a simple charm to view him through the wood of the door. In the hours he’d spent sleeping, Ben didn’t toss or turn in the sheets very much. He slept deep and sound and Finn was pleased by that because Ben really had arrived at his lair, before they’d sparred, looking completely exhausted.

Finn goes to the door for another time and casts his usual spell to see through. This time, Ben is sitting up. To Finn’s delight, he’s completely bare of clothes. They’re folded and stacked on one corner of the bed where Ben must have left them before sleeping. Clean, Finn notices now. And a fresh rune is burnt into the skin of his right bicep. That wasn’t there when they were sparring. He must have cast it to freshen his clothes.

Finn’s heart skips a beat at the sight of the Shadowhunter there, naked and awakening. His bare body muscled but relaxed. His pecs as ample as his arms and finished by nipples as pink and plush as his lips. His knees are spread comfortably. Finn can’t quite see the whole length of his soft cock but what emerges from dark hairs that trail from his navel seems pleasing enough to the warlock. So when the Shadowhunter finally looks towards his apparel, Finn comes to his senses and opens the door. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Finn says, feigning total surprise. “How was your rest?”

“I’m dressing,” Ben mutters, hurriedly throwing a bedsheet across his lap. Finn watches with delight as his cheeks and ears turn as pink as his mouth. “Do you mind?”

“Oh no, I do not mind watching at all if that’s what you’re asking, Shadowhunter,” Finn answers. “I would mind though if you were also leaving. Of course, you’re free to do that but… Well, _are_ you leaving? Now that you’re feeling rested? I’m glad you’re feeling rested, by the way. I really am.” 

“I have to leave,” Ben answers, his face still flushed but he’s not reaching for his clothes anymore, Finn notes. “Rey and Tai will be wondering where I am. There are things we need to do, and then… Well, there are things that I need to prepare for. Tomorrow night the moon is new.”

“Will they throw you a bachelor party?” Finn asks, trying to contain the bitterness that he can feel wanting to creep its way into his voice.

“If they try I won’t attend it,” Ben answers.

“And why is that? I thought you said you wanted to be married?” Finn watches him closely for a reaction, wondering how close to this line he can tread. Or ought to. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs when Ben doesn’t say anything back. “You have a soft heart, Shadowhunter. I really shouldn’t try so hard to break it.”

“Why do you do this?” Ben asks.

“Do what?” Finn answers, more frustrated than flirtatious this time. “Ask about your personal life?”

Ben’s eyes narrow at him. “Are you charming me again?”

“Oh," Finn says, smiling. "You find me charming, do you?”

“Not _that_ sort of charming,” Ben huffs. “ _Spells_. You cast something on me when we were sparring, admit it.”

“I did indeed do that then, yes,” Finn answers, truthfully. “You yourself weren’t playing so innocently though, Ben. I was merely leveling the terms.”

“And what of the first night I came to you?” Ben asks. “With Tai? For the cup? Did you cast something on me then? My sister was pissed that neither of us brought it back with us that night. Nothing explains why I didn’t. Apart from maybe that. More of your warlock spells.”

“No,” Finn answers, again with nothing but honesty. “I did not cast anything on you then, Ben. I was charming though... You were very charming too.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Finn sighs. Cautiously, he sits down on the edge of the bed, closer to Ben than the clean and folded clothes. “May I make a suggestion?” he asks.

Ben huffs. “As long as you answer the question I’ve asked you.”

“Bind my powers,” Finn offers. “Would you like to do that? I would let you. We can stay seated right here and you can see for yourself that I am casting no warlock spell on you now.”

“There’s no need for that,” Ben mumbles. “I believe you.”

“Your feelings are real," Finn says. "I will keep saying it, Ben.”

“And I will keep saying it too,” Ben whispers. “I don’t love him.”

“You told me that last night,” Finn reminds him. “And I believed you. That’s not what I’m talking of now.” 

Finn reaches out and takes Ben by the hand. “The way you looked at me the first night you came here, Ben. The way you looked into my eyes. And today. The way you held me during our sparring. Not like a warrior should hold a foe. Not like a _parabatai_ would hold another _parabatai_. Even one with a thumping crush he’s carried around since boyhood. The way you whispered in my ear, Ben. Yielded in my arms. You didn’t say it. But you did surrender to your feelings then. Feelings for me. _Me_ , Ben. A warlock. Whom you have no responsibilities to at all.”

“Who are you, Finn?" Ben asks. "Who are you really?”

“Do you really want to know?" Finn hazards. "My heart is as fragile as yours. I can’t play these silly games with you much longer. If I were to tell you, Shadowhunter…give up my most closely-held secret to you…and then if you were just to go back to some crush...or, worse, disappear into some obligatory matrimony-”

“I _do_ want to know who you are,” Ben says, leaning toward him.

In Ben's eyes, Finn sees the last plea for the truth he needs. “Then spend one whole night with me, Ben,” Finn whispers, “And I promise you will see who I am.”

* * *

She’s been turning the steel lip around in her hands. She and Rey, and Tai and Tage, are now all at the Institute together, well away from the chapel and the other more ceremonial spaces; inside an inner sanctum where they’ve grouped around together in a circle on the floor. Rey and Rose knelt opposite each other and the men in the spaces between them. The cup is in the center, within Rey’s reach. 

Rose reaches for Rey’s hand. Gently she slips the steel lip over it, onto her wrist. Rey scrunches her nose.

“You know I don’t like jewelry,” she mutters. But the tiniest smile begins to play its way across her face, like light across the surface of water. Revealing, beneath the armor, that maybe Rey does in fact like this.

“Well that’s lucky,” Rose says. “Because this is not jewelry.”

“I know that,” Rey grumbles, still smiling just a little bit.

“I just wanted to put it on you for a minute,” Rose whispers. “That’s all.”

Rey and Rose pause like that for a while, staring at each other, with Rose’s hand still on the steel lip around her wrist. Until Tai clears his throat and the women both come to their senses.

“Oh, right,” Rose says. “We were doing the thing...with the thing...and the other thing...right.”

“The Light and Dark pieces,” Tai says. “Rey needs to put them together.”

“Of course,” Rey adds, shaking her head, straightening her face and her back. Sitting up and coming to her senses. “Of course, so sorry, I… Okay... Okay, I can do this... I can do this.”

Rose lets the steel lip go and Rey takes it off herself. Tai passes her the cup. 

“You’re _absolutely_ sure?” Rey asks him. “Because we could wait until after the wedding. If there’s any doubt at all that this could go in any way wrong then I’d definitely rather wait. Tomorrow night is already going to be difficult enough.”

Tai looks to Tage, who nods. “Go on,” Tai murmurs, giving Tage’s hand a light touch. “It’s alright.”

“I know what I’ve seen,” Tage says, in a quiet but confident voice. “The time has come to use it. If you’re nervous though, I could talk you through it. Would that help?”

“Yes,” Rey says, bristling a little at his last remark, which seemed to question the state of her nerves. She’s not her brother. “Do it,” Rey says.

* * *

Above him, a long white cloud stretches far across a clear blue sky, and beneath him, hot fields swelter. And rows and rows of fruiting trees with them. Finn doesn’t run through the lines. His bare feet don’t touch down on the solid ground but he knows he is indeed running, jogging; in his nose are the scents of flowers and nectar. In his ears, the sounds of crickets. In his eyes are the reds of the roselle farm. A sweet taste fills his mouth now and a cool, sticky sweetness drips from his chin. Finn wipes his face with the back of his hand, and warmth and safety are all around him. He’s laying in the hot fields now, yet somehow still halfway between the earth and that clear blue sky. 

* * *

Ben wakes slowly. He never laid down. He remembers that. He’d already slept for hours after all, through the day. But once the warlock had drifted off to sleep, after Ben had agreed to stay with him - under very strict conditions - the sounds of Finn’s breathing and the faint sounds of the lair cooling down in the nighttime must have lulled Ben off to sleep. And there he’s been, ever since, in bed beside Finn, as he’s slept there too; waiting for whatever it is Finn wants him to see tonight.

* * *

Lightning strikes his solar plexus. Amber eyes stare back from a steel-bottomed basin. The amber turns yellow and now there’s hay beneath a pair of unshoed, green-stockinged feet. They’re swinging and Finn is running; sprinting faster than he ever thought he could. A man now. His booted feet touch down on the ground. Heavy. And no longer helpless. A warlock now too. But still, he can see all that green he left behind. It’s oppressive. And he’s not as quick as lightning but he doesn’t need to be because he holds it in his hands now. And all around him, lights flare. He dodges and heads for what instinct tells him is waiting. Just beyond this, he believes it. Red. Scarlet. Ruby. Crimson. He reaches out for the roselle again. Meeting it. Gripping all these memories and gripping them all hard.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Ben’s sure he must have drawn blood by now. At first, it was only squeezing. But the pain from Finn’s nails, dug deep into Ben's forearm, is becoming enough to cause Ben’s eyes to water. 

But he thinks back to Rose. Sat there on the bench next to him at the Institute. Rubbing his back. For no real reason other than because she cared enough to. She didn’t have to do things like that for Ben, really. He’d heard a lot of stories of runaway brides and grooms. And Tai. So fucking patient and kind to him, always. He must have known all along how Ben felt. But he never once said he didn’t like Ben that way. Was never ever cruel about it. And Rey. All the days she ever spent growing up in Ben’s shadow. All the times she missed out, just because she wasn’t firstborn. She never had a ceremony of her own. Their mother just gave her the sword on her twelfth birthday and explained it just wasn’t the way for secondborns. To have a big fuss made over them.

All of that goes through Ben’s head as he sits there on the bed next to where Finn still lies. Gripping his arm. Coming out of some nightmare. Or that’s what it looks like to Ben. He reaches his right hand slowly out to cover the one that is still clamped, vice-like, around his left forearm, and encloses Finn’s hand. Squeezes back. “Finn?”

He mumbles something.

“Huh?” Ben whispers, with hardly any idea of what Finn’s just said, his voice is so quiet. And with no idea what he means, Ben leans down.

* * *

The pieces seem to want each other. As Rey holds them in her hands she can feel them nearing, but not because she’s forcing; something is forcing them. 

“Get ready,” Rose says. “Tai, quick!”

“I’m getting it!”

The cup’s rubies shine and the steel of the lip seems to sing as Rey brings the Dark and Light pieces of the cup nearer to each other. She places the narrow groove on the slim steel circlet over the jagged edge of the cup. Her heart thumps in her ears. Her hands are shaking. She turns the lip clockwise and the pieces lock into place.

* * *

“Did you have a bad dream?” Ben leans closer to Finn, his hand still around the one Finn still has on his forearm. The warlock makes a sound but his voice is still so quiet, Ben hardly hears it. Ben shifts even closer so he’s almost lying down now, too. “What’d you say? You did have a dream?”

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay there?”

“Um.” It’s kind of an awkward position. “Like, _right_ here?” Ben asks.

“Just for a few minutes? Please?”

“Okay,” Ben says. “It’s alright though, you know? You just had a dream, Finn.”

“It wasn’t,” Finn whispers. “I know you said before you couldn’t but please just lie down here for a minute? With me?”

“Um,” Ben hesitates. He did say that before. But maybe now it’s different. And where he is now is very uncomfortable. “Sure,” he says, still cautious but agreeing. “Okay.” Ben lies down next to Finn, grateful to change positions but careful to keep the sheets between himself and the warlock because Ben is still not dressed.

“Do you remember your childhood?” Finn asks, now Ben has lain down and the two men are curled in towards each other; Ben careful to keep his knees at a distance although Finn’s own knees keep creeping up to touch his bare belly.

“Yes,” Ben answers.

“I don’t remember much about mine,” Finn says.

“Yeah, my sister told me that too,” Ben admits. “ _No recollection of a childhood_. That’s what she always said to me. I always thought it sounded pretty nice, to be honest. My childhood was totally f-”

“You’ve heard stories,” Finn says. “That’s all they are though, Ben. I’m not what the stories say I am. And...of who I was taken from? I do remember them. I dream of them. There are pictures I see. Colors, and other things. Feelings. Tastes and scents... But it is true that I did run from Snoke. Eventually. I did run from what he was starting to ask me to do. Killing creatures who didn’t deserve it… I couldn’t do it… I did run from that. I ran away… I ran away... Ben, do you think poorly of me for this?”

Ben thinks for a moment before answering, a little unsure of what Finn’s actually asking. “For killing innocents?”

“For running away… Do you think me a traitor, Ben? For running away? A…coward? I know the whole of the First Order does. And I know Snoke is training them, the new ones, to think of me like that. To think of me as _scum_... Shadowhunter, it’s important for me to hear your answer. I know that we’re not even close to being, well…loves. Lovers. it’s just that...many loves I’ve lost because of this. Because I struggle to resolve it, Ben. I know what I should think. I know what is right to think. But knowing what they say about me, no matter how wrong they are, affects my confidence so...”

Ben stares at the man from the picture. His eyes are as dark brown as they ever seemed in that. The shadows behind him in the bedroom are as deep. Light still falls on his features from candles that haven’t yet burnt all the way down to stubs during the early part of this night. Ben remembers the warlock’s image. Ben remembers the man in the picture.

“Running away?” Ben murmurs. “Making a clear choice? Finn, I can only imagine the courage that would take. Maybe it’s traitorous to run. Maybe. But cowardly? To act because of what you believe is right? And not because of what you’ve always just been told is right? Never. Never, Finn, could that be cowardly. Especially if you never had a choice to begin with.”

“When I dream, Ben, there are things I can taste as though I could drink them," Finn says. "Things I can smell as though they are here in my bed with me. Sensations on my skin. Not magic or spells. Things of the human world. Like crickets. Sunlight. But I can’t touch any of them in my dreams. I feel nothing when I reach for the things I can see. Until I wake up and my hands find nothing but furnishings. Inanimate, unfeeling things. Warm only because I've warmed them. I’ve heard the Nephilim rumors about myself, Ben. Nephilim say that I am strong. But every night I sleep like this. Waking terrified. My stomach in knots. My chest so tight I can’t breathe... Ben, I wake up so afraid... Every night... And every night I think I am a coward.”

“When I was twelve,” Ben says, “My mother told me two things. She told those things to my sister later on, as well... I was always so proud of the first thing she told me. The first thing she told us. Told both me and my sister.”

“What was it?”

Ben takes a deep breath. “My mother told us that we were Shadowhunters. I already knew that, but… Well, it never really hit home before then that being such a thing meant my job would be to _guard_ , Finn. That protecting something wasn’t just about waiting around for something to happen to _that_ thing but waiting around for something to happen to _me_. Waiting around for something in me to _want_ to help. Waiting to _care_. And that’s all I ever wanted to do after that, none of the rest of it. The rest of it was all bullshit and ceremony and terrifying, to be honest…the lineage stuff… But to keep something safe? To care how something - someone - fucking turned out? And whether not me but _it_ would be okay? As people have done for me my whole life, mostly. They _have_ loved me. My mother isn’t perfect and my father’s just a human but I think they always tried their best. I _am_ a Shadowhunter, Finn, and I will always be that. And you may be powerful…a rival to Snoke…but you will also always be from the Downworld... And so... Well, I think that means that I” - Ben touches his forehead to the warlock’s - “Will let no dream take you anywhere I can’t comfort you from, Finn, when you return from your sleep hurting. Go back to sleep, I’ll stay here with you. And I won’t let you wake both frightened or alone anymore. I care about what happens to you.”

Ben lifts his mouth and touches his lips to the center of Finn’s forehead. Yearning to do much more than that but all they do then is fall asleep.

* * *

So, here Ben stands again. In the chapel at the Institute; a nervous thirty-something - half angel, half human - stood in front of another crowd of people, including his mother and father, and Rey. And, of course, Tai. As well as every other Shadowhunter, both the royals and the commoners. Still no Downworlders here although but Ben knows Finn wouldn’t want to see one second of this thing anyway; this morning they agreed he’d stay away.

“Alright,” Tai murmurs, running his hands down the lapels of Ben’s black tuxedo jacket, and straightening his matching bow tie. “Are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Ben says. “Tai?”

“Yes, Ben?”

“I’m really glad you’re here with me. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Tai places his hands on Ben’s shoulders encouragingly. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Ben gives him a small smile. Then the pair of _parabatai_ take their positions at the altar, and Rose appears at the foot of a black velvet carpet, which leads from where Ben and Tai stand all the way over to the other side of the chapel. 

Ben doesn’t think it when he sees Rose; he knows she looks beautiful. Dressed in a gown of shimmering emerald. The bodice jeweled with viridian stones and gems. Fitted snugly around her, to emphasize her curves, and delicately finished by a soft wake of tulle. Gathered about her hips and falling to just below her knees. Her dark hair swept back in a simple style, revealing the tiniest emerald stones set against the lobes of her ears.

“Hang in there, honey, we’ll be outta here soon, don’t you fret,” she mumbles to Ben when she reaches him.

They turn to face each other and then, through the hush that fell on the crowd when Rose reached the altar, and she and Ben took up their positions in front of the chaplain, the sound of a door crashing closed behind them makes them all stop watching and waiting, and turn. Finn is there at the foot of the black velvet carpet. And Ben doesn’t think it; he knows his heart has stopped.

Dressed in a two-piece jacquard suit of crimson, patterned with fleur-de-lis. Beneath it, a pearly white collarless shirt with tiny black buttons down the front. Intricate braids worked through his hair, emphasizing the light in his eyes. Finn stares at Ben from across the room. One hand held to the lapel of his jacket, around waist height. It’s not a gesture Ben’s ever seen him make before but he knows what it means; the faintest trace of Finn’s nerves. He and Ben are as nervous now as each other.

“Ben?” Rose whispers. “Are you gonna be okay, honey?”

“I think I forgot how to breathe,” he whispers back. "Do you know that feeling?"

“Yeah,” Rose sighs, beaming. “I sure do.”

Nobody else speaks. His mother stands up though and Ben thinks it must be to intervene. And so that’s the only other thing he needs right now. The last piece in the puzzle that is his own destiny. Not a _Skywalker_ at all. Ben's a _Solo_.

“What are you doing here?” Ben asks Finn, stepping away from the altar and Rose, and his parents, and beginning his own walk down the aisle, towards the door. Walking faster, faster than his mother. Needing to reach Finn first. Before she can stop it. Before he can be stopped from showing her. Before he can be stopped from showing them all. 

“Rey invited me,” Finn answers. “I am a warlock, as you very well know, and I simply can’t come in unless-”

Ben takes Finn by his red lapels and pulls him in. “You’re invited,” he whispers, just before he finally kisses Finn.

* * *

“Pour it!” Rose had said, but Rey had begun to hesitate. 

“I should be able to feel something! I don’t think this is-”

“Just try!” Tai had urged. 

Tage had said nothing; Tai had just picked up the jug of water, then, and sloshed a quantity of it into the cup. And Rey had put it to her lips and drunk it and then all four of them had waited. And waited. But nothing at all had happened.

“ _Fuck_ ,” three voices had cussed in unison.

* * *

“Ben?”

He draws away from Finn and looks at his mother. Dazed, but very, very happy. Ben opens his mouth to speak but Finn’s tongue is quicker.

“With all due respect, ma’am, this is between me and your son,” Finn braves.

“I can see that,” Leia says. And to Ben’s great surprise she is actually smiling. “And as someone who loves him very much, that makes me incredibly pleased. I have always taught you, Ben, to say what is right. But I have always hoped you would do what is good. And that is to say what is right for you. For as proud as I am of the Shadowhunter, I am proudest of all of the man you are.”

Ben’s eyes start to prickle and then, just beyond his mother, Rey appears. Ben presses a gentle hand to the center of Finn’s chest. “Just one minute?”

“I’ve waited the better part of a century for you,” Finn answers. “But have another minute, darling, go on.”

Ben pulls his sister into the tightest embrace.

“Ben!” Rey grumbles. But she hugs Ben back so hard he loses his breath all over again.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair. “I couldn’t have done that myself.”

“None of us can really do things alone, brother,” she whispers back. “We need each other. We always will.”

“I love you, Rey,” Ben whispers. “You deserve Rose much more than me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Rey says, pulling away and grinning up into Ben’s face, her eyes as bright and wet as his. “I’ve known that for my whole life.”

Ben grins. Then he turns back to Finn. Stepping toward him, slipping his hands around his waist, and pulling him in. Finn embraces Ben, his hands sliding up around his shoulders and neck, and pulling him down to him so they can touch foreheads.

“Do you have a second name?” Ben asks very quietly so only Finn can hear his question. And thinking of the wedding band still inside the breast pocket of his tux. “You know like… _Solo_?”

“If you’re asking me if I want one?" Finn asks. "The answer is no, Ben.” The warlock starts to play with the ends of Ben’s hair. He’s smiling. Then one hand travels to the breast of Ben’s jacket and pats the pocket with the band inside it. “Second names are enormously overrated," Finn says, patting the pocketed band again. "Hold on to that for now, darling. But...if you were to be asking me about something _else_ , Ben…possibly related but maybe just a little more…well...I guess related to where you and me might actually be up to right now. This isn't a fairy-tale you know. This is real.”

“Up to right now?” Ben asks, confused again by the warlock's bizarre ways of getting around to points. But very, very about that. Very happy to be under that muddling spell of the warlock's again.

“How does just _Finn and Ben_ sound to you for now?” Finn asks. “And maybe they could try a few more dates out first? Keep on getting to know each other... You Nephilim are always so quick to jump into marriages but really dating is so much fun, trust me, Ben. I'm centuries old. I know this.”

Ben smiles. “The warlock and the warrior...just... _dating_ ," he says, slowly.

“Ah, _the warlock and the warrior_ ,” Finn repeats, smiling now too. He nuzzles Ben's nose with his own “Now _that_ sure has a ring on it.”


End file.
